


When You're Good to Mama

by OpalizedFossil



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Absurdly Silly, Anal Sex, Based on Tumblr Post, F/F, Now with smut!, double-teaming, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 10:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedFossil/pseuds/OpalizedFossil
Summary: When you're good to mama, mama's good to you.Based on a Tumblr post and a song from Holly Blue's VA.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on hiatus on Tumblr at the moment, but someone directed me to [this post](http://molded-from-clay.tumblr.com/post/159395762327/um-you-guys-this-is-holly-blue-agates-va) from [molded-from-clay](http://molded-from-clay.tumblr.com/) and I felt the need to write this.
> 
> No word on why I'm so obsessed with Holly Blue at the moment. I blame the fine selection of fanfiction currently being written about her by many talented writers on here and on Tumblr. This might be continued with a second chapter, in which case the rating may change.

Holly Blue Agate likes to believe herself an individual with complexity and charm, but there are things even she cannot resist the appealing simplicity of. Things like the soft touch of velvet or the warmth of a blanket. Things like the ancient texts stored in the tiny library hidden away in the recesses of the Zoo. Things like _music_.

No gem can resist the charm of music. It is as hardwired in them as the will to work and the need to serve their Diamonds. Gem power is rooted in music, after all. To carry a tune is to be able to battle, and the ability to cope with conflict is crucial to their survival as a species. Music means dance, and to dance is to fuse into a being greater than yourself. Music means song, and to sing is simply to _be_. It was a song from the Diamond Authority that ended the war on earth, a testament to how powerful music could be in the hold of the right gem.

Music is such a crucial factor to their culture and lives that it's no surprise that the Zoo's library harbors not only ancient texts, but also musical numbers recorded to thin discs that can be replayed endlessly with the proper equipment, all very recently imported from earth. It's always seemed like such a waste of resources to Holly, to send entire vessels of the most humanoid gem types to earth, only to reap their most unusual resources to bring back to Homeworld in heaping handfuls and armloads. Things meant for tasting, things meant for sleeping on, things meant for _enjoying_ , all things that were nearly unheard of in gem society.

But now, as she inserts the disc - a ribbed, black disc that's larger around than her sizable head - into the thing called a _record player_ \- something wholly unnecessary for a society possessing technology far superior, but charming, nonetheless - for the dozenth time that day, Holly understands.

Sometimes, simply enjoying things feels less like a waste of time and more like a good use of it.

Along with the so-called records, retrieved from earth fairly recently only to be unceremoniously forgotten at the Zoo by the very gems who had been sent to fetch them, Holly had uncovered a cardboard box - _cardboard!_ \- in the library. It was filled with what she believed to be human accessories. All of them were entirely too small for her, and certainly too small for the amethysts or jaspers or even the runty carnelian. Perhaps she would have them transferred to one of the habitats later; the humans might enjoy some new playthings. But, for now, she rifles through them as the record stutters and skips, the music starting, half-amused and half-disgusted at the things humanity has managed to come up with in the past few hundred years.

As the introduction to the song plays, Holly tugs something long and fuzzy - no, feathery - out of the cardboard box, stretching it between her fingers curiously. It's...a string of feathers. Fake feathers, no less, dyed ludicrously neon purple, punctuated with the occasional strand of tinsel. It's ridiculously flashy. Honestly, humans were so _tasteless_.

Holly threads the feathery fashion disaster between her fingers, feeling its strange softness, as she absentmindedly taps the toe of one white boot in tune with the music, starting to hum along with the first verse. She doesn't even realize that she's doing it; it's instinctive, after all, her mind willing her to sing along, the way a gem is apt to do.

_Got a little motto_  
_Always sees me through_  
_When you're good to mama,  
_Mama's good to you__

__

____

__

Holly only knows what a _mama_ is because of the humans she oversees. But, she has a creeping feeling that this isn't the type of mama the song refers to. However suggestive it might be, she likes the song - which is why she's been listening to it nearly on repeat for the past few days. The other records don't appeal to her even half as much.

And then, before she realizes what she's done, she's opened her mouth and started to sing along, in a singing voice slightly hoarse from disuse, "There's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do, you do one for mama, she'll do one for you..."

She catches herself and feels the warmth rush to her face, even though there's no one around to see her unprecedented performance. It's so indulgent that it feels almost _dirty_. 

But, that doesn't stop her from singing along to verse three, her voice gradually regaining its delicate, husky luster as she exercises it for the first time in decades, "They say this life is tit for tat and that's the way I live! So, I deserve a lot of _tat_ for all I've got to give..."

 _Fitting_ , Holly thinks with an amused little smile, one leg involuntarily stepping forward in its heeled, white boot in what can only be described as a prance. Her hip - thick hips that curve outwards temptingly, resting firmly atop her thigh-high boots - shakes lightly in time with the music. "Don't you know that this hand, washes that one, too...when you're good to mama, mama's good to you!"

* * *

Amethysts 8XJ and 8XK are repairing an air filtration system, fingers greasy and tattered towels around them smeared black with filth, when 8XJ suddenly pauses and wheels out from underneath the unit on her mechanic's creeper. She leans up on her elbows and looks down the hall, plush eyebrows perking up. "Hey, Sharky?"

"Yeah, Jay?" Sharky grunts, wrestling with a particularly stubborn screw with a wrench.

"You hear that?" Jay prompts.

Sharky gives up on the rusted screw, carelessly dropping the wrench. She tries to listen over the hum of the broken machine as she reaches for a towel to dry her hands on. Finally, she hears it. "Music?"

"Not just any music," Jay points out, _"Singing."_

Sharky listens in for a moment more, then wads the towel up and chucks it at the floor violently, fed up with the broken unit for now. "Doesn't sound like anyone I know."  
"Yeah, it's way too soft and pretty to be any of us," Jay agrees, cleaning up her own hands before she stands up and kicks her mechanic's creeper back under the machine, "Let's check it out. Looks like we might have some hidden talent in our ranks. Unless it's Holly."

Sharky snorts. "Yeah, Holly. Right."

* * *

Holly surprises herself with how much fun she's having singing along to an earth record of a human singing. A proud agate like herself should be repulsed at what she's indulging in, at how she's resorted to baseless entertainment instead of the rigid discipline and maintenance of her charges and her Zoo. But, she isn't. She's actually _enjoying_ it.

"The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores, so boost me up my ladder, kid, and I'll boost you up yours!"

Unfortunately, as Holly twirls around in front of a full-body mirror mounted to the wall of her private quarters, the feathery thing from the box now twined around her neck and shoulders as she dances and sways, she's forgotten that there are other gems in the Zoo - and that her bedroom door is very much unlocked.

She's so absorbed in the simple luxury of the moment that she doesn't hear the sound of the door creaking softly open as she belts out, as loudly and soulfully as she can, "Let's all stroke together, like the Princeton crew! When you're strokin' mama, mama's strokin' you!"

Her back is to the room's one entrance and exit, and so her luscious backside is on full display as she prances forward with just enough swagger to make it delectably bounce, tugging the feathery thing away from her shoulders to wring it around her wrist instead. "So, what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to?"

She flops down on her dark blue sofa with enough force to make it lightly bounce, one arm sweeping across her forehead like she's some woeful, human woman.

"When you're good to mama, mama's good to you!"

Unexpectedly, the record stutters as it comes to the song's conclusion, the arm skittering away with the sound of static before the room goes suddenly, painfully silent, and Holly is left to realize how absurdly silly her little musical number was. She lies on her back on the little sofa with her arm across her forehead, the feathery thing still wrapped around her wrist like a furry bangle, and thinks about how completely and utterly stupid the entire charade was.

And then, to her absolute horror, she hears a slow, deliberate clap from behind her, flanked closely by an ear-piercing wolf whistle.

Holly scrambles upright, sending the feathery thing flying, and stares at 8XJ and 8XK in silent horror. Oh, no. No, no, no, no...

" _Holy shit_ , Holly," Sharky remarks, smirking devilishly, "Who knew _you_ had a set of pipes like that?"

Holly looks at 8XJ. The amethyst only grins delightedly and agrees, "It _was_ pretty great, Holly! I'm just sorry we only got here for the tail-end of the performance!"

"Yeah, sing it again!" Sharky chides her as she saunters into the room, arms swaying at her sides in that characteristic, quartz swagger all of them have when they're feeling especially confident. Jay follows closely behind, the two of them splitting paths when they're close to her sofa, circling around her slowly until Sharky is looming over her with her distinctive, sharp-toothed smile and Jay is leaning on the back of the sofa to her right.

Holly feels vaguely threatened. They're supposed to be afraid of _her_ , not the other way around, but, suddenly, she can't find it in herself to even reach for her whip at the base of her neck. She feels so completely and utterly vulnerable to have been caught like this that she might as well be paralyzed.

And then, the feathery thing from the box is flying in front of her face, Jay twirling it around her neck delicately with an almost tender smile. She's always had a certain charisma about her that even Holly can't deny. "Will you sing it again, Mama?"

"Yeah, _Mama_ ," Sharky rumbles in a husky growl, one thick finger tilting Holly's delicate chin upwards to look at her sneering face.

"And this time, how about you sing it for _us_?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbelievably, there's more.
> 
> Includes most of the ideas I had for the original chapter (intended to be a stand-alone one-shot) that were scrapped during the writing process.

"Yeah, _Mama_ , and this time, how about you sing it for _us_?"

Sharky punctuates her request with a sharp-toothed smirk and, finally, a sloppy lick of Holly's right cheek, her tongue rolling wet and warm against the smooth skin, cold like porcelain.

Holly's initial reaction is to be disgusted. There's a trail of saliva now glistening down her face, and Sharky is exhaling hot air on her cheek, and for a moment, she feels that she might reach for her whip and lash them both into submission.

But, her stomach is still tied tight in knots from the adrenaline of having been caught and her mind is still humming along stubbornly to the song she now knows by heart and, in the heat of the moment, she knows that she can't resist an encore performance. She knows that it's too indulging, that it's improper and beneath her. She shouldn't be catering to her quartzes so much; at the least, she should be embarrassed to have been caught singing along to a human record by them and, at the worst, she should be making them feel sorry for ever having walked in on her at such a personal moment. And yet, here she is, snatching the feathery accessory away from Jay's stroking fingertips and whipping it over her shoulder recklessly as she half-walks and half-dances over to the record player with much more swagger in her step than usual.

She glances over her shoulder pointedly halfway there and sees both of them following the sway of her hips like magnets, her lips tugging into a satisfied smirk that even she wasn't expecting. Later, she's certain that she will regret this, she thinks as she resets the record, bringing the needle over to it delicately and suddenly realizing how sweaty her palms are when it slips between her fingers. But, right now, she feels confident and sexy and very, very giving.

The record splutters to life. Holly glances at them, both shuffling eagerly on the sofa they're entirely too large for. Typical amethysts, getting worked up so easily.

"You are both to stay on the sofa until I tell you otherwise," Holly tells them sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," both voices answer almost in unison, more uniformly than they ever did during roll call or when receiving orders. She would roll her eyes at this later, she was sure, but, right now, she was preoccupied with taking a steadying breath as the song's intro once again played.

"Got a little motto, always sees me through..." Her voice cracks a little at first, but steadies itself quickly. The initial nerves start to subside as soon as the music hits her. But, the knot in her stomach stays. She's beginning to think it's something other than anxiety. "When you're good to mama, mama's good to _you_ …"

Holly could have stood still, with her hand on her hip and the feathery thing around her shoulders, and sang to them, and they probably would have still been miserably worked up by the time she was done. But, she can do better than that.

"There's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do..." Luscious hips sway side-to-side as Holly starts towards them, one boot-clad leg placed slowly and deliberately after the other with every step, hands rising to tug on either end of the fuzzy fashion accessory draped around her neck. "You do one for mama, she'll do one for you."

She says you very pointedly while making eye contact with them both, first with Sharky, then with Jay. Her own baby blue eyes are half-lidded beneath thick, white lashes, her lingering anxiety and embarrassment at having been caught indulging in such peasantry bringing _just_ enough bright blue color to her cheeks.

"I can think of about a hundred favors I want you to - ," Sharky starts, before Jay cuts her off with a murderous, "Shh!"

"They say that life is tit for tat and that's the way I live," Holly serenades them from a mere three feet away, pulling the feathery thing away from her neck, the fuzz now damp with sharp, fresh sweat.

"Ha, she said tit!" Sharky laughs, only to be shocked into silence as the fluffy accessory comes down around her own neck, with Holly tugging on either end gently. Holly's face is almost level with hers, so close that Sharky can feel the warmth of her breath between husky, sultry words.

"So, _I_ deserve a lot of tat for all I've got to give," Holly sings to her so directly and with such a fearsome gleam in her eyes that Sharky can't help but feel that she's being scolded - in the best way possible.

Holly releases the feathery accessory, letting it fall away to settle limply on Sharky's barrel chest. She turns away, not entirely discreetly flaunting her shapely backside, one arm out to the side. "Don't you know that this hand washes that one, too..." She flicks her wrist pointedly, watching them through heavily lidded eyes over her shoulder. "When you're good to mama, mama's good to you..."

Sharky is smirking devilishly and Jay is watching her dazedly, and their expressions of such clear delight only serve to embolden her, until she's not only pranced back over to them, but laid down across their laps, where their thighs are more plush and comfortable than any cushion ever was. Both of them look mildly shocked as she gazes up at them, her voice rising a pitch now that's on her back instead of upright.

"If you want my gravy, pepper my ragu," Holly practically purrs at them, although she admittedly has no idea what gravy, pepper, or ragu are, understanding it to be human gibberish.

Sharky's mouth opens to speak again, but Holly is quick to silence her, this time by thumping her lightly in the cheek that doesn't harbor her gem with the toe of her boot, her foot hooking underneath her chin to turn her face towards her, a defined calf and lush thigh entirely too visible through the white leather. "Spice it up for mama, she'll get hot for you!"

The cheeky amethyst swallows hard, a knot of arousal in her abdomen. Then, as quickly as it came, the leg is twirling away, Holly suddenly sitting upright instead of sprawling across their laps, spinning as if around an invisible pole to instead fix Jay with that sultry expression of hers, plump lips parting around half-sung and half-whispered words, "When they pass that basket folks contribute to, you put in for mama, she'll put in for you..."

Both hands clutch at the clasp of her navy capelet as she rises, hips swaying slowly and rhythmically (and not to mention entrancingly), tugging it away in one swift, clean motion as she spins on her heel to face them once more. She tosses the article away more carelessly than any of them expected; it's a status symbol, after all, and a prized possession, now thrown aside like a broken plaything in favor of something far more interesting.

"The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores," Holly coos at them in her husky singing voice, growing smoother by the second, as she straddles one of Jay's thighs, thick with muscle, not the same luxurious fat that covers hers. Then, she slowly slides into her lap, knees folded and hands holding gently to her shoulders, with a little flutter of her lashes that sends a shiver down Jay's spine. "So, boost me up my ladder, kid, and I'll boost you up yours!"

It sounds like such an appealing promise on Holly's plump, smooth lips, shiny with wetness, even if it's only the words to the song and not something she's legitimately offering them. Or perhaps she is, with how she reaches down beside Jay to retrieve one of her hands, balled into a fist with knuckles white with tension as she clutches absentmindedly at the sofa, and places it instead on her very round, very prone backside. Jay can feel its definition beneath the thin fabric of Holly's spandex jumpsuit, so tender and warm, prompting her to gulp anxiously. And then Holly winks, and it's all she can do to not lose it completely.

"Let's all stroke together, like the Princeton crew...," Holly hums, her fingers now trailing tenderly down Jay's defined arms, tracing the shape of her bulging, quartz muscles, to ever so slightly graze over her gem. Then, she presses a fingertip to its faceted center, feeling along its ridges and outline teasingly, the sheer sensory appeal of it overwhelming to the hazy-eyed amethyst now slack-mouthed beneath her. "When you're strokin' mama, mama's strokin' you!"

Holly is suddenly so entranced in Jay's brutish beauty that she's nearly forgotten about Sharky, until the cheeky amethyst whimpers to remind her. Steadying herself on Jay's shoulder, and unintentionally leaning forward far enough to nearly press her face into her cleavage, scarcely concealed beneath black spandex, Holly smirks and lifts a hand to beckon Sharky closer with the crook of her finger. She doesn't have to tell Sharky twice, the amethyst scrambling over to them eagerly, grinning delightedly as Holly scoops her face into her hands, leaning in maddeningly close.

"So, what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to...?" Holly's plump lips brush the shell of Sharky's ear, Jay's hands now stroking circles on her buttocks. She's long since fallen out of time with the record now skittering into silence somewhere in the background, but she finishes, anyways, the final line coming out in a voice that's hardly more than a whisper, "If you're good to mama, then, you two... _I'll_ be good to you..."

She concludes by pulling away and gently shoving Sharky in the chest, suddenly acutely aware of the hands on her backside and the blush on her face and the hazy, cloudy look in both of their eyes and how completely and utterly _ridiculous_ she must look.

Sharky and Jay exchange a glance. There's a moment of silence as the three of them become tense, neither amethyst certain how Holly will react now that the heat of the moment has worn off, all deeply and disturbingly aroused, Sharky not entirely discreetly adjusting her trousers around a swollen erection. Holly had been in lap, after all. _Her lap!_

Finally, Jay speaks, "Hot damn."

"Yeah, Holly," Sharky adds, spurred on by Jay's response, "That was _super_ hot!"

Holly feels a little bothered. She shuffles uncomfortably. Jay is still holding tightly to her backside, squeezing it enthusiastically, and she can't help but shiver. 

"Who knew you had it in you, huh, Holls?" Jay chuckles, "C'mon, talk to us. We both know you've got something to say. You've _always_ got something to say."

"Yeah, you were dancing in our laps five minutes ago, there's no need to be shy now," Sharky comments helpfully, "I can't wait to tell the girls about this!"

Holly hadn't even considered that the two of them would talk. But, it was too late to take it back now, much less while she was still seated in Jay's lap with her hands cupping her ass appreciatively and her erection pressing determinedly against her soft inner thigh.

Finally, she clears her throat and awkwardly asks, "Were the two of you supposed to be doing something when you came here? That broken unit, I believe?"

The two are unable to conceal their disappointment, faces falling. Jay's hands drop away from Holly's backside, plopping against the sofa heavily.

"Yeah," Jay answers after a moment, regaining her composure, "The broken unit. We'll go and finish up now."

"Yeah," Sharky adds dejectedly, with an uncharacteristic frown.

"Yes, you two run along and finish up with your chores," Holly says dismissively as she rises from Jay's lap and sweeps her hands down herself, straightening up all the wrinkles that have formed in her bodysuit and glancing around for her capelet. She watches as the two of them stand and start for the door, waiting until they're nearly there before she clears her throat, assuming what she hopes is a sexy pose, with one hand propped on her hip while the other shoos them away and one knee slightly bent forward.

"And when you're done, make sure you come straight back here, hmm?" she teases, with a little smirk of those plump, wet lips that sends both of them reeling all over again.

Jay chuckles nervously, exchanging a glance with Sharky, then grins at Holly. "When we're good to mama..."

Holly smiles. "Mama's good to you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more unbelievably, there is _even more_.

Unfortunately, the air filtration unit is more broken than Sharky, Jay, or Holly Blue ever imagined. What Jay imagines to be a clogged filter turns out to be a fried motor, which Sharky rips entirely free from its metal cage in a fit of frustration, sending Jay into a cursing tizzy.

_"Sharky!"_ she hisses venomously, "We're supposed to be _fixing_ it, not breaking it more!"

"Fixing it?" Sharky scoffs incredulously, "This piece of shit's busted. It should've been replaced centuries ago. So, we send in an order for a new unit and we wait. It'll be here in a few days and we can fix it then. There are other filters, nobody's gonna wheeze to death over one broken one."

Jay wheels out from underneath the now thoroughly gutted machine and fixes her with a hard look, purple eyes twinkling knowingly. "You just wanna get back to Holly, don't you?"

Sharky grins. "Don't _you_? I mean, hot damn, who would've thought we would get a show like that? _And_ a promise to come back later for an encore? I must be dreaming!"

Jay can't deny how absolutely ludicrous it sounds: Holly Blue - their terrifying agate of many years - twirling and sashaying around her room with a neon-colored boa wound around her neck and shoulders, singing along with a human tune from half a century ago. What was even more absurd was that Holly not only didn't shatter them on the spot when she caught them spying on her, but that she was more than happy to give them an encore performance, complete with dancing in their laps, whispering in their ears, and flaunting her luscious hips in their general directions. No matter who she tells, she knows no one will ever believe her.

Her little reverie sends a pleasant shiver down her spine. She looks at Sharky, who is smirking knowingly. "You're right. This piece of shit's busted."

Sharky offers her a hand. Jay takes it, letting Sharky haul her to her feet, neglecting to even kick her mechanic's creeper back under the machine before she starts down the hall behind her. Someone's sure to go sprawling after stepping on it later, but in the moment, she can't find it in herself to care. All she cares about right now are the images still fresh in her mind of Holly sprawled across their laps and hooking the toe of her boot under Sharky's chin to jerk her back to attention.

"You think she meant it?" Sharky interrupts her chain of thought.

Jay shrugs.

"You think she takes it up the ass?"

One of Jay's thick brows raises inquisitively, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "You think she even has an asshole?"

"Knowing Holly? Probably not," Sharky replies, a bit dejectedly, "But, hey, a girl can dream, can't she?"

Jay glances sideways at her. "It's enough of a dream already, isn't it?"

* * *

Holly Blue lounges on her sofa with one of the old human novels from the library between her hands, palms slightly sweaty as the hours wear on. She's spent much of her evening preparing, grooming her hair, untidy from her most recent musical number, back into its two neat buns and debating on what she should wear. Again, it's behavior she finds disturbingly human, worrying over what her suitors will find the most attractive on her, but she's strangely willing to dismiss it in favor of what's soon to come.

Or what was, at least, because she's growing increasingly certain that Jay and Sharky simply aren't coming. She doesn't know what she expected; even with what she believes is a thorough dose of motivation, the amethysts can't be bothered to listen to her. If even their baser nature isn't enough to get their attention, then, honestly, what is?

Then, she hears footsteps down the hall - _running_ footsteps, no less, fast approaching her closed bedroom door. And then she hears the veritable screech and skid of rubber soles on the polished tiles, closely followed by a distinctive, heavy thump, and knows that one of them has completely missed the door and fallen flat on the floor. And _this_ is why we don't run in these halls, Holly thinks to herself with an unamused frown.

There's a knock on the door, but not before the sound of some lighthearted pushing and shoving and very quartz-like banter.

Holly inhales deeply, steadying herself with a breath she doesn't need, and sets the book aside. "Come in."

She thinks the door might have flown off its hinges if the two had opened it any faster. Jay and Sharky both try to squeeze through the opening at once, scrambling past each other until they're both, finally, in the room.

"Close the door," Holly tells them, " _Gently_ this time."

Sharky kicks it closed behind her absentmindedly as both of them stop and stare.

Holly Blue is stretched out on the sofa the two of them had sat on earlier. She has on her pair of white, thigh-high boots, the leather suddenly seeming stretched more tightly around her muscular calves and very shapely thighs, leading smoothly up into the wide curve of her ass - and absolutely nothing else.

Their reaction is absolutely delightful. Precisely what she imagined it would be, in fact. Comically slack jaws and eyes wide with shock, Jay's distinctly bushy eyebrows flying up beneath her curly bangs. "No drooling on the carpet, you two. I just had it cleaned," she croons at them, voice sickeningly sweet but still distinctly husky.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Jay exhales slowly, "but it wasn't _this_. Not that I'm complaining. Hot damn."

Words have left Sharky altogether and she can only seem to splutter and stare, before Jay elbows her in the ribs and brings her back to reality. A shiver of anticipation runs down her spine and, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across her hard features, she glances over at Jay.

Holly smiles, fluttering her lashes. She's stretched out on her stomach with her legs bent at the knee, boot-clad feet in the air behind her, propped up on her elbows with her chin rested on her folded hands and a narrow view of her generous cleavage peering naughtily between them. "Who's first?"

Sharky and Jay exchange a glance. Then, both of them break out in big grins like they've shared some silent, secret exchange and mutually come to an agreement, without ever having spoken to each other.

"Both of us," Jay announces, now waltzing over to the sofa with her thick arms swaying at her sides, and the beginnings of an erection entirely too visible through the thin spandex trousers of her uniform.

Holly cocks a brow at them, one side of her smile quirking up a bit higher. "Oh, my."

"But, first, let's see if you've got the right equipment," Sharky says from behind her, rough palms encircling her backside, rubbing slowly so that Holly can feel all the hard callouses on her skin, and very, very suddenly spreading her buttocks. The room's cool air hits her sensitive anus and she hisses, tensing up in Sharky's hands.

"Holy shit, I was right!" Sharky announces, so loudly that anyone in the immediate proximity of the room would surely hear, "She _does_ have an asshole!"

Jay peers over her shoulder to see, grinning delightedly. "Bet she shape-shifted it just for us, too."

"Oh, I might have had a _little_ something in mind when I invited you back," Holly confesses, with a soft flush of her blue cheeks. To know it is one thing. To hear her say it is another.

Sharky gives Jay a lighthearted shove, grinning widely. "Dibs on her ass."

"You can have it," Jay replies, with a broad smile of her own, "I wanted her pussy, anyways!"

"I don't care who goes where," Holly tells them as she rises onto her knees, her breasts hanging heavily over her chest, as soft and plush as the rest of her, with big, navy nipples pebbled and perky, "as long as I can have you both."

"Don't have to tell us twice," Jay laughs, cupping her hands around Holly's thick buttocks as she hoists her into her arms, the agate's soft, bare skin pressed flush to her torso as she winds her arms around her neck, holding on tight. It isn't the most secure way to hold her and, for a moment, Holly is worried that she might drop her, and then Sharky's arms are encircling her from behind, chapped lips pressing feverish kisses to her bare shoulder and thick arms enveloping her in a pocket of warmth.

"Shame I didn't get to admire you both first," Holly tells them as Jay's skin goes suddenly bare beneath her hands, her uniform sizzling away in a wave of white light, "You're both so terribly... _big and brutish_."

"And now we know what Holly's type is," Sharky chuckles from over her shoulder, where she presses a final kiss before her hot mouth wanders to the base of Holly's skull, where her teardrop-shaped gem sets neatly in the pale blue skin, right below the feathery hairline, soft and silvery white. Holly gasps sharply as she feels Sharky's rough lips encircle it, sucking at it lightly, closely followed by a roll of her thick tongue. Oh, what uses she could find for a tongue like that, she thinks as she sinks further into Jay's chest, hips twitching reflexively against the amethyst's pelvis.

"Horny Holly," Jay purrs as she watches her, her own face flushed at the sight of Holly's cheeks growing bright and warm with arousal, her lips shining damply in the low lighting, parted slightly as though in invitation. Oh, and her eyes, gleaming bright and blue and slightly hazy beneath heavy lids and thick, white lashes...Jay could look at her forever, if there wasn't much more than looking to be done.

"She's humping you," Sharky laughs, bringing with her a string of saliva as she pulls away from Holly's gem, her hands wandering up her torso until she finds her breasts, soft and heavy and warm. She squeezes them gently, then clutches them a little more tightly as she shuffles her hips forward and feels the wet warmth of Holly's pussy radiating against her erection, now swollen to its full size. It twitches, eager for more.

"Let's fuck her," Jay murmurs into Holly's hair, in a voice hushed like she's telling a secret. Sharky only faintly nods.

"Hold her," Sharky tells her, then waits until Jay has a secure hold on Holly before she releases her with one hand, which instead moves to clutch her erection, twitching eagerly at the touch, and guide it swiftly and smoothly into Holly's ass.

Holly gasps, then bites down on her plush lower lip, nose wrinkling up adorably as she adjusts to the uncanny sensation. Sharky struggles to hold still, even for a moment, now that her cock is hilted in the hot, inner warmth of Holly's backside, her hand returning to its place on her side. Then, the agate lets out a shuddering sigh, smiles contentedly, and nods. "Oh, go on! Fuck me already!"

Sharky gives a stuttering laugh and obliges. "Holly Blue is asking me to fuck her. Holy shit."

"I think she's telling you, not asking you," Jay chuckles, supporting the agate on her shoulder awkwardly as she reaches down to direct her own cock, a bit thinner than Sharky's but several inches longer, into Holly's awaiting pussy, surprised when it skips away on all the slickness on her first attempt. She's wet. So, so, so wet. When Jay manages to nestle the head of her cock in, the rest of her shaft glides in smoothly, and she quickly discovers that Holly is as soft and plush and velvety warm on the inside as she is on the outside.

Suddenly, Holly is very, very full. There's a cock in her ass and another in her pussy and, if she closes her hazy eyes and concentrates, she can feel them gliding smoothly upward and grinding gently against each other through her inner walls. Her teeth worry away at her plump lower lip as she savors the sensation of them both, stuttering and stumbling slightly at first, taking several seconds to find the right rhythm, the one that will work for them both. And even if it's clumsy at first, it feels like heaven when they've found it, sending pleasant jolts up her spine with every shuffle and thrust.

She feels a little crushed between them, with the two hot, heavy bodies pressing flush against her from both sides with every motion. But, it's the best crush she can imagine, still nibbling away on her own lower lip until Jay captures her mouth in a soft, warm kiss, her lips so rough and calloused compared to Holly's smooth, plush ones.

"How's that, Holls?" Jay asks her breathlessly as she pulls away, quickening her pace, "You feelin' good, mama?"

"'s good," Holly manages between little huffs and moans. She's already close. Oh, she had needed this. And it certainly didn't help that she had been 'warming up' all evening while she waited for them, imagining something almost exactly like this.

"Fuck, we should be good to mama more often," Sharky pants happily in her ear, her breath hot and humid, her fingers gripping bruises on Holly's hips.

All three of them chuckle and Holly surprises them even more by carrying on with them as if they've been great friends their entire lives, and then, with an upward thrust, Sharky is panting and moaning and cursing at the ceiling as she tosses her head back, hilts her cock in Holly's ass, and comes hard.

Holly cries out with her, but she isn't quite ready to come, at least until Jay answers Sharky's orgasm with a few final hard, upward thrusts of her own. Holly gasps heatedly as that tight knot of pressure in her depths comes undone, moaning huskily as she grips tightly to Jay's shoulder, hips moving of their own accord.

All of them stand there, in a mass of arms, legs, and sweating, panting bodies, and relish in the moment. Holly might have felt awkward as the afterglow started to fade away, if she hadn't felt so completely satisfied. It feels like hours before the two start to move, Sharky's softening cock flopping free from her ass with a comically wet pop, Jay's gliding away more cleanly. Sharky passes her completely over into Jay's arms and, smiling contently, Jay carries her back over to the sofa and sets her down, admiring how her legs spread carelessly across the sofa cushion, pussy leaking a little stream of white.

"You look hot as hell," Sharky voices before Jay has the chance, flopping down beside her so heavily that the entire sofa bounces.

Jay sits down on her other side, an arm around her shoulders. "So, Mama, how was it? Did we pepper your ragu?"

"Yeah, were we good enough to you?" Sharky chuckles, sinking into the sofa cushions comfortably, "Because, hot damn, were you ever good to us."

"Yes...very good...," Holly tells them with a carefree little smile that they've never seen even a semblance of on her face before. It makes them both feel warm and fuzzy, for reasons other than arousal.

"So, Holls, you sing any other songs?" Jay asks after awhile.

"Other songs?" Holly prompts.

"Yeah, you've totally gotta give us a big performance! And I mean all of us! The girls would dig this, they're gonna be so bummed to hear what they missed out on!" Sharky pipes up.

Holly glances between them, and the eagerness on their faces is something she never realized she wanted to see. She smiles coyly, glancing away and peering at them from the corner of her eye.

"Oh, I suppose I know another song or two."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It never ends.

Sharky and Jay want more.

And Holly Blue is happy to oblige.

Their visits often come late at night, after the other amethysts and jaspers have drifted off, slipping away from the cubby room to entertain her in her private quarters, the cramped room now home to two dozen sizable cushions for them to attend to such intimate matters on. The two of them had ventured into the library twice already, each time returning with new records for her to sing along to. But, their favorite is still the first song they ever heard her sing, perhaps because of the sentimental value that moment now held, or perhaps because Holly just sang it exceedingly well.

When the two of them arrive, Holly is always eagerly awaiting them, sprawled out on either her little sofa or the selection of cushions scattered across the floor, always wearing something new. Sometimes, it's shape-shifted lingerie she's replicated from the pages of human catalogs, also retrieved from the bowels of the library, intricate and lacy things adorned with ribbons tied in neat bows, stretched tight over her generous curves. Sometimes, it's the choice bits and pieces of her usual uniform, always including the thigh-high, white boots, sometimes with the capelet, sometimes without. Other times, it's absolutely nothing at all.

Tonight, it's the boots and the boa, the fuzzy, feathery thing she's since learned the name of. The thing has shed an absurd amount of fake, violet feathers on her carpet and upholstery, but she holds onto it, nonetheless, because of the sentimental value it now holds. Something about the silly thing makes her feel sexy, which, in turn, makes her feel ridiculous. Sometimes, she laughs at herself about it, but this entire ordeal is so shamefully enjoyable that she can't find it in herself to care.

She's stretched between two cushions in the middle of the room, one of her favorite records playing idly in the background as she skims through magazines about human fashion, which she's growing increasingly interested in. Occasionally, she glances up at the closed door a bit anxiously. The wait is always the worst.

When a few more moments pass, and she still doesn't hear the familiar thunder of their footsteps galloping recklessly down the hall, Holly's fingers move between her plump thighs, fumbling her clitoris idly. She closes the magazine, puts it aside, and begins to masturbate more intently, until she's three fingers deep in herself and Sharky and Jay are suddenly barreling into the room.

"Damn, Holly!" Sharky exclaims excitedly, "Get it!"

Holly, a proud gem caught in such a lascivious act, has the decency to blush, but can't resist the urge to scissor two fingers apart, stretching a shiny screen of wetness between them. Sharky climbs onto the cushion beside her, opening her mouth wide, and has her tongue wrapped around Holly's sticky fingers before the agate has time to stop her.

A month prior, Holly would have been disgusted, but now, she only smiles faintly and pops her fingers, now wet only with saliva, from between Sharky's lips, cupping her chin and gazing into her purple eyes fondly. "Honestly, Sharky, you're absolutely filthy."

She feels the cushions shift and bounce as Jay settles down behind her, a muscular arm swiftly encompassing her bare waist, fingers gripping gently at fistfuls of lush chub. "You know she just can't help herself," Jay reminds her, to which Holly chuckles.

"I suppose I do," Holly agrees, then cranes her neck backwards to meet Jay's lips halfway for a heated kiss. Pleasant warmth descends on her as she's squeezed between two strapping quartz bodies, pressing in on her from either side in their feverish quest to touch her.

* * *

Chip is curious.

Everyone else has noticed it, too. You would have to be blind to not see it.

Sharky and Jay are slipping away nearly every night. It's been over a month now and, still, unfailingly, the two of them retreat to their cubbies, side-by-side, with the rest of them after working hours are over, waiting quietly until everyone else seems to be asleep or at least occupied. When it seems safe, one of them rises and leaves. Then, a few minutes later, the other slips away, as well.

No one asks them about it, but there are theories, of course. The most popular explanation for their peculiar behavior is that Sharky and Jay are seeing each other. Seriously, not the way that the rest of them see each other, coupling indiscriminately after working hours, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in groups, sometimes in massive, sweating, panting orgies including nearly every single one of them. Still, it's peculiar; Sharky and Jay have had sex before, right there where the others could see them, and never seemed to care about privacy until now. And if monogamy was what the two of them wanted, without the spectators or inclusion of others, the rest of them would have respected that if only they asked. There are plenty of places to couple furiously in the cubby room: a few small sofas, scattered cushions, unoccupied cubbies, and other vaguely horizontal surfaces suitable for sex. To leave the room to do so seems like a risk less than worthwhile; after all, out there in the halls, there is the risk of being caught by Holly Blue, and that's a misfortune that no one wants.

So, even when the others have accepted their theory, Chip isn't so sure. She doesn't believe that Sharky and Jay would take such a risk to keep a budding relationship a secret, especially when the two of them had always been so open with the others before. There is no reason for them to hide any blossoming romance between them, and Chip can hardly envision either of them as monogamous, anyways.

Chip has another theory.

The others laughed when she told them, but she's almost certain that she's right. She's seen how Sharky and Jay exchange suggestive glances when Holly Blue passes them by in the halls, how the two of them smirk devilishly at her during the morning roll call. She doesn't know how the others _haven't_ seen it; it's so obvious.

Besides, if the two of them are venturing into the hallways at night, when Holly Blue is ordinarily religiously on patrol, and she hasn't caught them, then she must be _with_ them.

Tonight, Chip is determined to redeem herself to the others by proving her theory. She waits until the others have fallen dormant, either sleeping or distracted, and watches as Sharky and Jay exchange a glance, then, one-by-one, leave the cubby room. After several moments more, she leaves, too.

Outside, Sharky and Jay are nowhere to be found, but Chip doesn't need to follow them. She knows exactly where to find them. Still, she finds herself stealing glances over her shoulder occasionally, almost expecting Holly Blue to be prowling the hallways nonetheless.

The Zoo's quartzes are close. Their ragtag group is as closely knit as a well-assembled platoon, brought together by shared experiences and like interests, as quartzes tend to be. Still, Chip is a bit of an outcast. She's quiet for a quartz, a little more reserved than the rest of them and much more observant. She's inquisitive and curious and, as a result, has a nose for trouble. To be stationed with her almost always guarantees one more reprimanding from Holly Blue than usual, so the others habitually avoid working with her. She stands out like a sore thumb physically, too, with her red-violet coloration, off-colored gem, and a blatant defect in the form of a tooth she emerged already missing. No matter how many times she poofed and reformed, it was always there, even when she tried to will it away. A chipped tooth, for which she was now nicknamed.

But, even if she was a renowned troublemaker, being inquisitive and observant came with its advantages, Chip thinks as she turns the corner and finds herself in the hall that houses Holly Blue's private quarters. The door is closed.

It doesn't matter. Chip can hear them from the hall, faint moans filtering through the walls, garbled words she can't quite understand. She grins devilishly; she knew it.

But, she wants to hear more. Just enough to confirm her suspicions beyond doubt. So, she kneels down, eases herself towards the door, and presses an ear to the cold, hard surface. 

"When you're good to mama, mama's _really fucking good_ to you!"

Sharky's voice, only slightly softer than a shout. Chip hears her grunt, then groan elaborately, almost excessively. Teeth worrying away at her lower lip, she closes her eyes, leans in a little closer, and tries to imagine the scene unfolding on the other side of the door. Holly's always been hot as hell and a bit of a tease to them all, swaying her hips just so when she walks, propping the toes of her ridiculous boots on their backsides after she knocks them to the floor, sometimes batting her lashes at them coyly as she passes them by. But, Chip never imagined she would actually _fuck_ them. It's an exciting prospect, one her body readily responds to, her palm cupping her growing erection softly through her pants.

Chip exhales unsteadily and leans in a little farther.

The door flies open.

Chip tumbles face first into the floor, where she lands with a thump, and she's certain she's broken _another_ tooth in her fall. But, in that moment, she can't find herself to care, because she scrambles to her knees and is immediately greeted by the sight of Sharky sprawled out on her back on the cushions that crowd the floor, with Holly's plush thighs stretched across her waist as she straddles her. Holly's back is to her, providing ample views of both her luscious ass and the thick cock currently buried within it, the few inches of shaft not hilted in her glistening with wetness in the low lighting.

Jay is standing over them, her own erection encased in Holly's pumping fingers, now frozen to a stand-still as all three of them turn around to stare at her. Holly can only glance awkwardly over her shoulder, still rooted firmly to Sharky's hips, her face ablaze and her baby blues glinting murderously.

"Uh...," Jay drawls, "Hi, Chip."

Chip's own face burns hotter than Holly's. She scrambles to her feet and tries in vain to hide her erection, now swollen painfully large and quite visible through her trousers.

Holly crosses her arms. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I...," Chip starts, but can't find the words.

"You were _eavesdropping_ ," Holly finishes for her, then looks back at her unlikely lovers and shakes her head, "Honestly."

"C'mon, Chip, did you have to barge in _right now_?" Sharky laughs from underneath Holly, "Things were just getting good!"

Holly cocks a brow at her. " _Just_ getting good?"

"Okay, okay, things are _always_ good in here," Sharky chuckles agreeably, then reaches behind Holly to gently grasp her buttocks, massaging in slow, deliberate circles as she croons, "C'mon, Holly-Dolly, just ignore her, let's keep going..."

"Holly-Dolly?" Chip squeaks.

Jay looks at her. "Hey, close the door. We don't need anymore unexpected guests."

Chip absentmindedly does so, feeling eerily dazed. The front of her trousers feels hot and tight and, reflexively, she reaches to touch herself, when Jay suddenly calls her over. She feels as if she must be daydreaming, lost somewhere in a fantasy, as she ventures over to them and Holly very unexpectedly reaches for her.

"You mean...you want me to...?" Chip is shocked.

"Well, since you're already here, dear," Holly Blue quips, gazing up at her dewy-eyed from beneath thick lashes, her hand still outstretched expectantly. Chip doesn't have to be told twice. Her clothes vanish in a shimmer of white light and she all but thrusts her cock into Holly's grip, grinning stupidly when she feels her warm fingers curl deftly around its twitching shaft.

"You gonna be okay balancing?" Jay worries, but Holly only nods dismissively. Sharky hisses below them as she starts to move, Holly's hips shifting up the length of her cock before dropping down swiftly once more. She tries to move her hands in time with her thrusts, realizing suddenly what Jay had meant about balance, but her pace is off. Neither of them seems to mind, even when one hand's pace slows tortuously while the other moves almost too fast. Holly looks happy, overjoyed, to have them all here, crowded around her, and that's suddenly all that matters.

Chip notices for the first time that Holly is wearing something bright and fuzzy around her neck, wound in circles around her smooth shoulders, clinging slightly to her powder blue skin with sweat that smells crisp and clean. Somewhere, there's music playing faintly, but Chip is only dimly aware of her surroundings, honed in on the smells, the sights, the _sensations_ that are Holly Blue.

Suddenly, Chip understands why the others didn't believe her. It's ludicrous. Sharky and Jay sneaking away to visit _Holly Blue_. 

She still doesn't know how she'll convince them, but, right now, she doesn't care. All she cares about is the pump-pump-pump of Holly's hot hand on her cock, bringing her steadily towards that ever elusive edge, somehow feeling so much better than the pulse of her own fingers.

Sharky grunts. "You're clamping down on me like a vice, baby."

"Someone's horny, hmm?" Jay croons, threading her fingers through Holly's downy hair, "So excited to have a new plaything? Were you getting bored with just us, baby?"

"Bored? With you two?" Holly laughs, and Chip can't believe what she's hearing, "I highly doubt that!"

"She's so cute when she laughs," Jay chuckles, and Chip realizes too late that she's talking to her.

"O-Oh, yeah, she is!" Chip agrees in a stammer.

"'s good, isn't it?" Jay asks her, "You're zoning right out on us."

Chip only nods dazedly, focusing intently on Holly's touch, however erratic and unbalanced it is. Sharky's hips give an involuntary, upward jerk and Holly lurches forward, Jay catching her deftly by the shoulder, but she never loses her grasp on the two shafts in her hands, holding onto them gently but firmly and very determinedly.

Holly comes undone before all of them, some combination of the thick cock hilted in the tight cavern of her ass and the blissful, shameful knowledge of what she's doing, bouncing up and down on one shaft while she pumps two others in her hands, all while dressed in nothing more than her tall boots and some silly human accessory. She sits up straighter when she comes, eyes squeezing closed and mouth gaping in a sing-song moan. Her ass squeezes Sharky a little tighter and, grunting sporadically, the cheeky amethyst peaks right along with her. She leans forward, pressing warm kisses to Holly's breasts and tummy, before she flops back down weakly, savoring the orgasmic high.

Jay soothes a panting, sweating Holly with little strokes of her silvery, soft hair, cooing quietly at her through the semi-darkness of the chamber. She encourages Holly to take a break if she needs to, but Holly's pumping motion on her and Chip's cocks stops not even for a moment. In fact, she starts to stroke them a little faster, more focused on them now that she isn't trying to maintain such a delicate balance. Within moments, Chip is over the edge, her cock twitching heavily in Holly's warm hand as it oozes come between her fingers, slow, thick rivulets dribbling down her forearm. Jay follows shortly afterward, but ejaculates with a little more zest, sending semen splattering directly between Holly's pendulous breasts, stray droplets hanging heavily in the boa's fake feathers.

Sharky splutters underneath them as she's hit. "Dammit, Jay!"

Jay laughs in the ecstasy of orgasm, her hips now thrusting steadily into Holly's fist as she comes down from her high, unable to stop right away. "C'mon, Sharky, you know you love it!"

"I don't, in fact, love it," Sharky grumbles as she wipes come off her abdomen, then smears it on the cushion underneath her. To her dismay, more drips down onto her right away, trickling slowly but steadily off of Holly's chest.

Once the heat of the moment has died down, Jay tugs her softening cock away from Holly and fetches her a towel from the corner of the room, where they're now on standby for incidents such as this. She kneels down in front of her and wipes the come off her chest, then makes a show of dropping the soiled towel directly over Sharky's face while she scoops Holly up, Sharky's shaft gliding free from her ass, and moves her to the sofa to sit down. Sharky splutters and scrambles to remove the towel, pitching it across the room irritably before she rises and moves to join them, blowing a raspberry at Jay pointedly.

"There's a good girl," Jay croons as Holly settles into her arms, leaning heavily on her muscular shoulder, "You feelin' okay?"

Holly nods, smiling delicately. "Yes, dear. It was fantastic, wasn't it?"

"Of course, Mama!" Sharky says with her characteristic, sharp-toothed grin. She has a hand on Holly's lower back, stroking gently.

Panting, Chip looks at them. Strands of hair are plastered to her forehead with a thin sheen of sweat, her mouth still hanging open dumbly as she takes in air in big, thirsty gulps. She hasn't come so intensely in years, but the sudden revelation that Holly Blue is sexually available had an effect on her. Finally, she prompts, "Mama?"  
"Yeah," Sharky says, "Listen."

None of them speak. Music is still playing idly in the background, more audible now that no one is panting or moaning or talking. Chip listens for a moment, then shrugs. "I don't get it."

"It's her favorite song," Jay explains, "We caught her in here singing it to herself one night. And then she caught us listening to her."

"And then we fucked," Sharky summarizes, grinning broadly, "And we've been fucking ever since. You oughta hear her, Chip! She has a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe!"

Holly listens to them from where she leans on Jay's shoulder, inhaling her familiar, quartzy scent, a little musky, a little sweaty, but very, very comforting. Then, she sits upright and, finally catching her breath, declares, "Maybe she _should_ hear it."

Jay looks at her. "You wanna sing it for her?"

"No," Holly says, and she doesn't miss the blatantly disappointed expression on Chip's face, before she clarifies, "I want to sing it for _everyone_."

Jay and Sharky exchange surprised glances. Jay pipes up, "Everyone? You mean...?"

"All of you!" Holly tells them, a little more enthusiastically than expected, "Don't _all of you_ deserve a little treat like this?"

She crosses and uncrosses her legs, placing emphasis on her thick thighs, squeezing her arms into her chest to flaunt her cleavage, smudged with lingering traces of come and slightly shiny with sweat, the boa's fake feathers sticking to her stubbornly, tickling her powder blue skin.

"Holly..." Jay bites her lip, eyebrows furrowing worriedly. "That's _a lot_ of rowdy quartzes to handle all at once."

"A lot of quartz is precisely what I want," Holly informs her with a little smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, a playful twinkle in her eyes. Chip didn't know she was even capable of such things, and wouldn't have believed it if she didn't see it for herself. But, Jay and Sharky know and, exchanging another glance, shrug in unison.

"You're sure about this?" Jay asks.

Holly smirks delightedly. "Everyone."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was revised and reposted after some discussion of how rushed it was on Tumblr. I apologize if it isn't up to par with my usual quality, but please enjoy the edits and apologies to anyone whose comments were lost or who received a double notification about the update! Thank you for reading!

It's Chip's turn to clean the filters in the oxygen exchange units on the north side of the station. It's never a pleasant chore, but it's especially unpleasant today, she thinks as she shuffles down the hall, struggling with a dozen dirty filters clutched to her chest, sneezing and coughing with every step as the dust and dirt and lint from them all finds its way into her mouth and up her nose. It's already been a bad day; earlier, she had been stationed with Mel, the amethyst with a perfect gem centered cleanly in her forehead, swathed on either side by soft, white hair, and had gotten both of them into trouble with her unrelenting curiosity, resulting in an early morning reprimanding from Holly Blue. Mel had stormed off on her afterward, citing that she was more trouble than she was worth, leaving Chip stinging silently by the sliding door.

And now, she has a dozen filthy filters to clean and replace, so the grimy little humans in the Zoo can continue to breathe. She loves them as much as all the others, but there are times when she, like the best of them, are fed up with their constant care and upkeep. Huffing irritably, she shoulders a swinging door open and half-shuffles and half-stumbles into the cleaning area.

Chip freezes.

Holly Blue is here.

But, for once, she isn't worried about another reprimanding, at least not right away - because Holly Blue is stark naked, stripped down to her tall white boots, thighs spread from where she sits atop the smooth, metallic counter, fingers working away steadily between them.

Once Chip recovers from the initial shock of the scene, her raspberry face flushed brilliant burgundy, she starts to fear that reprimanding, knowing that she'll surely be scolded for catching Holly Blue in such an unthinkable act. It isn't her fault that Holly chose to do it here, where she could so easily be walked in on, but something being entirely Holly's fault hasn't stopped her from scolding them before.

She's about to turn around when she hears Holly chuckle. This sends a fresh wave of shock over her, her eyes wide as Holly glances towards her not with a look of malice, but a bat of her thick lashes, a knowing smile tugging sweetly at the corners of her lips.

Chip trembles just enough for her to drop the filters, plastic-and-cotton screens scattering noisily across the polished tiles, sending up plumes of collected lint and dust. Still, Holly doesn't shout, doesn't draw her weapon, doesn't even flinch. She just gazes back at her knowingly, with something of a teasing twinkle in her baby blue eyes, and chuckles, "Nobody's going to believe you."

It's been seven or eight years since Chip walked in on Holly Blue in the cleaning area. It was something Chip could never forget, but she had found it in herself to store the memory in the back of her mind until now, stowed away for hungry masturbation sessions in her cubby hole late at night. She, like so many of the others, had always found Holly to be hot, but this had been the moment that confirmed that Holly was more of a little vixen than any of them ever suspected.

And Holly had been right; none of them ever believed her when she brought it up to them, a hushed secret she tried to share in the semi-darkness of the cubby room sometimes, dismissed as another of her farfetched fantasies and tall tales.

Now, all of them will believe her, Chip muses as she sits quietly on Holly Blue's little sofa, watching eagerly as she turns around before her full-body mirror, adjusting her hair, fluffing up her boa, and admiring how the low lights of her private quarters twinkle on the shimmery sequins of her blue evening gown. It's based on a dress she saw in a magazine, shape-shifted in her favorite color, complete with a slit that climbed all the way up the length of her legs to supply a tempting glimpse of her plump thighs and the garter belts fastened snugly underneath.

"Look at you," Jay giggles giddily as she watches her, "All dressed up, just for us."

"Oh, not just for you, baby," Holly reminds them, smirking teasingly, "For everyone."

Tonight, Holly intends to sing and dance for the entire platoon, thirty-something amethysts and jaspers and a single overcooked carnelian, sharing with them what she has previously only shown to Sharky and Jay and now Chip.

Chip is certainly eager for her performance and Jay seems at least amused by the idea, suddenly supportive of Holly's decisions now that she's gotten a taste for her pussy. But, Sharky is less than thrilled, lounging irritably on the floor full of cushions with her arms crossed pointedly.

"Yeah, everyone," she remarks bitterly, so quietly that Holly doesn't hear her. But, Jay does, and she tosses her a sideways glare as she closes the distance between her and Holly, encompassing her plump hips in both hands lightly.

"You ready, mama?" Jay chuckles into her ear, flicking her tongue along the fleshy rim.

"Ready," Holly agrees. Her cheeks have a certain rosiness to them, her lips overripe in their plumpness, wet with saliva as she traces her tongue over them over and over again.

"You sure about this?" Jay asks, picking up on her anxiety.

"Of course I am!" Holly answers a little too quickly. Jay chuckles, then encompasses her in a gentle hug from behind, resting her chin on Holly's shoulder and inhaling deeply.

"You smell nice," she purrs, "Look awful nice, too."

Holly smiles. "You're too kind. And besides, I trust you'll call them off if things get too rowdy."

"I'll try," Jay agrees, grinning teasingly, "No promises they'll listen, though!"

Holly shoos her away with a cute little wave of her fingers. "Enough, you're going to make me start sweating already!"

"Start sweating because she's nice and warm or start sweating because you're horny?" Chip asks from the sofa, grinning broadly and flashing them her absent tooth.

Holly glances at her, with a satisfied little smile on her face. "Both."

* * *

Holly Blue had been so confident about her evening performance, but, when the moment comes, she finds that she's more nervous than she anticipated.

Sharky and Jay have been spending much of their recent downtime constructing a stage for her, from wooden crates stuffed tight with pillows, topped with a sheet of metal that glistens brightly in the fluorescent lights. Building it in the cubby room would have spoiled the surprise, so Holly agreed to unlock one of the other chambers for them, a large, grand space with a domed ceiling giving way to the empty space beyond the station, glistening beautifully with stars. While Sharky and Jay had built the stage, Chip had collected cushions to scatter around the floor, providing seating for the amethysts and jaspers soon to fill the room. Perhaps the most noteworthy detail of all was the shining, silver pole standing tall in the middle of the crudely constructed stage, seated between the crates to hold it steady. Sharky had told her quite smugly that it was for pole dancing, should she want to take her performance to the next level.

Sharky and Jay and even Chip, who Holly has since inferred is a bit smarter than the average meat-headed quartz soldier, couldn't figure out how to hold a curtain up for her, the room stretching far too wide for a rod to be mounted from wall-to-wall. So, instead, Holly finds herself fumbling her fingers nervously behind a satin sheet that Jay and Sharky are holding between them, their arms held high over their heads.

For a moment, Holly feels silly. Sharky and Jay had to all but beg the others to come, piquing curiosity by promising a surprise, and the entire charade feels very, very sloppy, despite their best efforts. The stage they've made her creaks slightly underneath her boot heels with every step, the ruffled fabric she tediously stapled along the bottom coming undone, her conical buns still visible over the top of the bed sheet curtain no matter how hard Sharky and Jay strain to make it taller.

But, then, the music's starting and Holly feels what she felt on that first night when she sang the song, when Sharky and Jay had unexpectedly walked in on her and sparked a relationship she never dreamed she would have. She's as drawn to music as ever, that instinctual need that all gems possess surging up in her once more.

She starts to hum along to the song's intro, Sharky dropping her edge of the sheet to let it fall away. There's an audible, collective gasp from her audience, only forty strong and still somehow feeling absolutely enormous. Clearly, regardless of whatever hints Sharky and Jay had dropped to convince them to come, no one had expected this.

"Got a little motto, always sees me through," Holly starts, "When you're good to mama, mama's good to you..."

Someone in the front row swallows so hard that Holly hears it over the music, her record player stationed somewhere in the back, as she prances towards the front of the stage, trying to overlook how it creaks and cracks and threatens to fall apart underneath her.

"There's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do," Holly tries to project her voice enough for all of them hear, startled by how powerful her singing suddenly sounds, "You do one for mama, she'll do one for you..."

A sideways shake of her hip sends all forty of them leaning forward, straining to see, some scrambling to the front for a better view, others still sitting there with their jaws hanging comically open in transfixed alarm.

"They say that life is tit for tat and that's the way I live," Holly sings in that sultry purr of hers as she wrings the feathery boa from around her shoulder, strutting pointedly towards Jay. Sharky has ventured off into the audience somewhere, but Jay has elected to stay onstage with her. Holly elects to reward her by looping the boa around her neck and giving it a sharp tug, somewhat surprised when the cheap little thing doesn't snap in half. "So I deserve a lot of tat for what I've got to give!"

"Don't you know that this hand..." Holly pauses thoughtfully, to hold a hand up and tilt it towards her onlookers, flaunting daintily manicured nails painted with glistening lacquer, "Washes that one, too. When you're good to mama, mama's good to you!"

Crates tremble underfoot as Holly prances away from Jay to address her audience more directly, perched treacherously on the edge of the stage and leaning towards them with fingers splayed across her knees, ass out, swooping neckline of her evening gown baring generous cleavage from breasts tightly squeezed within its fabric folds. 

"If you want my gravy, pepper my ragu..." Again with this puzzling line, undoubtedly derived from some human culture she doesn't know about or understand, but she can see from the stunned-stupid looks on their wide-eyed, slack-jawed faces that none of them care about the content of the song itself, only that she's singing it, and it gives her the burst of confidence she needs to put all she has into it, the way she would if it were only Sharky and Jay listening to her in the quiet lull of her chambers. "Spice it up for mama, she'll get hot for you!"

Holly wishes one of them would lean in a little farther, so she could cup their chin in her hand and sing sweetly directly into their face without having to lean so far from the stage, the part of her that isn't so intent on putting on a good show for them warning her that she might fall and crash right down into her audience, and what a turn of events that would be. So, she has no choice but to turn back to Jay, sweeping tickling fingertips beneath her chiseled chin and smirking in satisfaction when the amethyst leans wholeheartedly into her touch, leaning into it even as Holly struts past her, so intently that she stumbles and barely catches herself from a fall.

"When they pass that basket folks contribute to," Holly trills, "You put in for mama, she'll put out for you!"

"The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores..." Holly returns to the front of the stage, one leg placed almost exaggeratedly in front of the other, slow and deliberate and with just enough rhythm to send quivers through her hips, hugged tightly in her evening gown, garter belts peering teasingly out through the slit that runs up either leg. She glances at all of them pointedly, through eyes half-veiled in heavy lids lined with thick lashes, as if to convey an urgent message. "So, boost me up my ladder, kid, and I'll boost you up yours!"

She feels like she has to use the pole. Sharky installed it, however haphazardly, for a reason, and Holly feels that she deserves a little reward for her efforts. Not to mention that the rest of them will be expecting it, hoping for it, now that they've seen it here. So, with a comb of her fingers through the pieces of her hair not spun into conical buns, she wraps a hand around the cold, metal pole, glancing to them briefly for approval before she spins around it once, her voice shaking from the motion. 

"Let's all stroke together, like the Princeton crew..." She doesn't doubt that several of them are certainly stroking to the sight of her, and the thought both disgusts and thrills her. She gives them another slow, deliberate spin around the pole, which she doesn't trust nearly enough to climb onto and outright pole dance for them. Not that she's familiar enough with the motions to manage such a thing, but she might have been willing to try it in the heat of the moment if the pole felt even slightly more structurally sound, trembling and jostling in her hand. "When you're strokin' mama, mama's strokin' you!"

Holly hooks a knee around the pole, the metal welcomingly cold beneath the curl of her knee, where the skin feels hot and sweaty from dancing. "So, what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to...?"

She steels herself, gathers her nerves, then fixes them all with what she hopes is a sexy stare, with a pointed bat of her lashes and slight smirk tugging at the corners of her plump, wet lips. The last line, she belts as loudly as she can, without making herself sound overzealous and silly, annunciating every word more enthusiastically than she intends, "When you're good to mama, mama's good to you!"

The record skips and splutters to a start. Jay rushes to stop it before it starts to screech at them, leaving Holly standing there awkwardly with a sudden acute awareness of the sheer number of eyes focused intently on her.

There's a moment of silence. Holly stands there with her fingers and a bent knee still tightly wrapped around the silver pole mounted in the stage's center, face burning furiously either from exertion or embarrassment or both, and wonders if she's made a fool of herself. And then all of them are on their feet and clapping and cheering and calling her name and she feels her chest swell with pride.

Huge palms encompass her waist from behind. Holly doesn't have to look to know that it's Jay. "You hear that?" she asks, "All of that's for you, Holls."

Sharky climbs onto the stage and comes towards them, the old crates groaning protestingly beneath her sudden weight. "And there's more where that came from, if you keep on shaking that fat ass of yours like that."

Holly flushes a little darker.

All of them are excited and want an encore performance, but Sharky quickly shoos them away and tells them that the show's over. It's over as quickly as it started and, suddenly, Jay is carrying her away, back to her chambers, and sitting her down delicately on the sofa, Sharky following closely behind. The entire ordeal feels otherworldly and unreal, as if it only ever happened in a dream. 

"Wow, what a show," Jay laughs as she sits down beside her, an arm around her shoulders, "Everyone was so impressed!"

"Were they really?" Holly asks hopefully. She surprises herself with how much she wants their approval and their praise, with how much she can't wait to perform for them again, maybe next time in only her tall white boots and some shape-shifted lingerie, like what she wears for Sharky and Jay. She imagines that she needs to learn some new material, too, before all of them tire of hearing the same song over and over again. There are a few she knows that she thinks they'll enjoy. 

"You bet they were!" Jay tells her, grinning broadly from ear-to-ear, ever supportive of her. 

Sharky surprises them by nudging the door closed with the toe of her boot, a little harder than expected, causing them both to jump. "Yeah. The whole fucking platoon. Real impressed."

Jay furrows a brow at her. Holly frowns and prompts, "And what is your problem, hmm?"

Sharky crosses her arms as she sits down beside them, brow furrowed. "This...was our thing," she confesses, and Holly suddenly realizes that she's upset because she and Jay no longer have exclusive access to her. All of them now know about her unexpected singing abilities and musical talents; it isn't their little secret anymore. And she supposes that there had been a certain appeal to it being only the three of them, to them stealing away quietly in the night to visit her, to them hoarding cushions in her bedroom floor for the express purpose of fucking her on them. She hums delightedly at the memory. 

Holly manages a soft smile, then reaches for her with both arms, welcoming her into a warm embrace cushioned by plush breasts practically popping free from the low neckline of her dress."Oh, Sharky..."

Sharky pouts visibly. Her lower lip is protruding, caught between two sharp teeth, in an expression that Holly could only describe as adorable. 

Holly scoots over, then motions for Jay to join them in their unexpectedly cuddly embrace. "I'm sorry that it isn't our thing anymore. I didn't know that it mattered so much to you."

"Nothing you can do about it now," Jay tells her.

"No," Holly agrees with a little smile, before she kisses both of them on the cheeks, Sharky directly on the cool, hard surface of her gemstone, "But, if it's any consolation to you..."

Sharky perks up. "Yeah?"

"You'll always be my favorites," Holly chuckles, "and need I remind you that I haven't fucked the others. Only you. And Chip, too, I suppose."

Sharky looks at her, then erupts into a sharp-toothed grin and nestles in a little closer. "Say, did you like the stage we built you?"

"Of course I did," Holly reassures them. And she did like it; she liked it because it was built by them, not because it was particularly pretty or classy or structurally sound. If there were to be encore performances, it could always be fortified later. She's certain that more work can be done on it, now that the whole lot of them are in on her secret and eager for more. "In fact, I believe I still need to, aha, thank you properly for all the hard work you put into tonight."

Sharky and Jay exchange an eager glance. Holly smirks at them, with a little tilt of her head and a cock of her brow, as she pries the neckline of her blue dress away from her breasts, letting them spring free readily. There's a soft, red impression in a swooping curve just above them, from how tightly they had been wedged into her evening gown. The tighter, the better, she had thought, and realized her mistake too late, but it hardly mattered now. "Remember, when you're good to mama..."

The two amethysts grin, huge, eager smiles spreading from ear-to-ear. "Mama's good to you."


End file.
